


the ghost in the back of the room

by TigerMoon



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 16:10:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16916082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigerMoon/pseuds/TigerMoon
Summary: Everyone knew Vincent had nightmares.Only one person knew that Reeve had them too.





	the ghost in the back of the room

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost of an old fic I wrote several years ago. FF7 will always hold a special place in my heart.

"... where is he."

 

Vincent, prone to nightmares as he was-

 

(which, really, considering his history, having nightmares was very good progress from 'staying in a catatonic state in a coffin' and much better than 'going insane and calling a meteor down to destroy the Planet')

 

-had the disturbing tendency to, when they were very severe, reach out for his demons when the nightmares went from 'Lucrecia, why?" to "Oh dear god, Hojo is elbow deep in my guts and I think it's turning him on, someone help me."

 

Reeve was usually able to keep said nightmare from getting to that point, thankfully, but on the rare occasions when he couldn't, he was very gracious about the fact that every so often he would wake up in bed with, say, the Galian Beast. Or Hellraiser. Or, Gods forbid, a very pissed-off Chaos.

 

Even then, he was able to placate the demons (for the record: Galian- ear scritchies and his favorite chew toy; Death Gigas- warm cocoa, classical music and _Goodnight Moon_ ; Hellraiser- blood and pain, preferably Reeve's, including the need for Cure materia and excuses for the inevitable new scar or two; and Chaos- sex, preferably from Reeve, including handcuffs, blindfolds, Cure materia and excuses for the inevitable bite marks and new scar or two). Galian or Death Gigas tended to come out most often when the nightmares came around; Chaos preferred to show up when things were more pleasant. (Nobody liked it when Hellraiser popped up, especially Reeve. Thankfully, his visits were very few and far between.)

 

Chaos was the one to come out this evening, erupting out of a vivid nightmare involving mako tubing and the echo of a gunshot. His clawed hand had instantly shot out to grab hold of his pet, intent of dragging him out of sleep and to him, but the other side of the bed was cold. Worse than that; the only other occupant was Pixel, Reeve's pet Siamese, who hissed and bit his finger when he swatted at him.

 

It was only the knowledge of what Reeve would do – or, more specifically, what he would withhold – that kept him from crushing the miserable feline's life out right then and there.

 

“ _Where is he_ ,” he demanded of the thin air. The demon sat up, wings flaring out behind him. This, in his mind, was intolerable. Inexcusable. Reeve wasn't so much his own person as he was a necessary extension of Vincent's existence, that missing piece needed to keep his human host whole. For him to leave his host alone when he would be most vulnerable was a breach of contract in the worst possible way.

 

Silence. Wherever he was, it wasn't within earshot.

 

The demon slithered out from between the sheets to stand nude in front of the picture window; he had no care of human social mores, so he didn't bother to put anything on before stalking through the room. Reeve was used to him prowling like this. Anyone else . . . well, they would just have to feel inferior, like they should.

 

No one in the bathroom. It wouldn't have been the first time the engineer had fallen asleep in the bathtub, as long hot soaks were often a way for him to unwind. No one in the hallways or the kitchen or the living room. The TV flickered static, a constant low hiss.

 

. . . and then he heard it. A low sound, so quiet even the demon's advanced hearing almost didn't pick it up.

 

The study. Of course. The idiot had decided to work late. He was probably in there scribbling over figures or drawing up some stupid building plan, or something far less important than tending to the needs of his host. Chaos's lips curled up in a bitter grin as he pushed the door open, ready to chastise him. Oh, it would be _fun_ to pay him back for this one. Reeve hated to mess up his precious workroom; how much fun would it be to pin him down right there on his desk and-

 

The grin faded from his lips a second later as he saw just what he'd walked in on.

 

Everyone knew Vincent had nightmares.

 

Only one knew that Reeve had them too.

 

As he had thought, the fool had decided to work late – except Reeve had apparently fallen asleep at his desk in mid-task. He still sat there, hear on his desk and the auburn of his hair glinting under his desk lamp, his arms curled protectively around his head. Two thick scars crisscrossed the back of his neck, under his shaggy hair, just part of the price he had willingly paid to Hellraiser to gain Vincent one night of peace. As Chaos stepped closer, he could see the minute trembling of the other man's broad shoulders, hear the unintelligible muttering of someone caught up in a world only they can see. The demon thanked Minerva he couldn't understand what he was saying; the few times he'd stumbled upon him like this and heard the content of his night terrors, it had taken considerable strength of will – and a fair amount of property damage – to not lash out, to not let it seep over onto Vincent's side of things, where it would just feed into his mind.

 

Sighing, Chaos crouched beside him, arms around his shoulders and wings coming up to encircle them both. “Idiot,” he murmured. “I don't know why I bother sometimes.”

 

Vincent didn't even know Reeve had these. He couldn't - he wasn't capable of dealing with another person's nightmares, not when he couldn't deal with his own. And Reeve, stupid lovesick fool that he was, knew it, and went out of his way to make sure Vincent wouldn't have to deal with it.

 

No, that task had fallen to Chaos, who had discovered it by accident one night; for some reason he couldn't identify (something stupid and human and most certainly Vincent's fault), he hadn't left the engineer to deal with it on his own but instead taken him into his arms and tried his hand at that concept called comfort. And he'd been doing it (far more rarely than what had to be done for Vincent, but _still_ ) ever since.

 

A shuddering sigh, and the man below him stirred – Chaos looked down into tired hazel eyes. “Vincent have a nightmare?” Reeve asked, his voice hardly more than a whisper.

 

The demon raised an eyebrow. “Maybe I just got bored, did you think of that?”

 

“Eyes.” _I see it in your eyes_ , he meant. The damnable human was too observant for his own good. He pushed himself off the desk. Ink splotches colored his cheek where he'd fallen asleep atop his fountain pen. “How bad?”

 

“How bad were yours?”

 

Reeve looked away. Chaos huffed, pulling him closer until the man's head collided with his shoulder; he ignored the half-hearted protests and wrapped his wings tighter around him. The engineer stiffened for a moment before relaxing against him. “I was being serious,” he said hesitantly after a few moments. “If . . . I know what you're wanting-”

 

And damn it all, but even remembering the fantasy of fucking his pet into the side of the desk until he screamed for more did nothing to excite him now. Worse, he wasn't even angry about the missed opportunity. “No. Not tonight,” the demon mused. In the back of his mind, Vincent had relaxed too, no longer full of that terrible, desperate fight-or-flight energy. Reeve had relaxed even further against him, nearly boneless; Chaos pulled him down all the way into his lap, sitting back against the cherry wood desk and keeping them encapsulated with his wings.

 

Hazel eyes peered out from under tangled bangs. “Sleep, Reeve,” the demon said.

 

“But Vincent-”

 

“Vincent's nightmare is over.” His voice was strangely gentle there in the dark. “Let yours be over too.”


End file.
